


A Splash In The Mud

by JulietsEmoPhase



Series: Seasons Change [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Muggle, Anal Fingering, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, M/M, Meet the Family, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Shameless Smut, Shower Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-10 12:24:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4391774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JulietsEmoPhase/pseuds/JulietsEmoPhase
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After their fling in the hay barn, Harry and Draco's relationship is going strong, strong enough for Draco to want to introduce Harry to his parents properly. However, will a puddle of mud undo all his high hopes? </p><p>Follow up to "A Roll In The Hay". Muggle AU. SMUT. Birthday Present! </p><p>Part 2 of 5.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Splash In The Mud

**Author's Note:**

> A lot of people wanted more of “A Roll In The Hay”, but it was Eva (aka @captain-maurice) who came up with the winning prompt of “mud”. And it JUST so happens to also be Eva’s birthday today, so this is dedicated to her!
> 
> I’ve decided to make this into a series called “Seasons Change,” and there will be four parts. So keep your eyes open for the next installments soon! xJx

A Splash In The Mud

 

 

   Draco loved the orchard of Malfoy Manor.  Autumn time was the best, when the leaves began to turn and the fruit began to blossom, leaving acres of gnarled trees all organised in rows to stroll along, a riot of colour to get lost amongst.

   The evening air still clung to a hint of summer, and Draco felt comfortable as he entered the copse in his silk shirt and crisp, pressed trousers.  He smiled up at the burnt orange and mahogany leaves as they rustled in the light breeze, feeling a deep contentment that soothed away his nerves.  This was going to be fine, he had nothing to worry about. 

   The old wooden bench wasn’t far from the orchard’s entrance, and it felt a little out in the open as he looked up to catch sight of Harry waiting for him.  Draco was used to seeing him all over the farm these past couple of months, but always in the jeans and vests he wore as work-wear.  The sight that greeted him now stole Draco’s breath away,

   Harry smiled as he rose to meet him.  He was clad, much like Draco, in black formal trousers, polished shoes and a white cotton shirt with the top two buttons undone.  Silver cufflinks with delicate emeralds caught the evening sun; a birthday present from Draco that he’d not seen put to use until now.  And to top it off, glasses with slim black frames had replaced Harry’s usual contact lenses, adding to a slick, angular impression that had Draco weak at the knees. 

   “Fuck,” he couldn’t help but breath on his approach.  “You look gorgeous.”

   Harry rolled his eyes and pulled him into a hug, Draco’s skin igniting through the purple shirt he’d spent half an hour deciding on.  “I feel like an idiot,” Harry growled, lacing kisses along Draco’s jaw line.  He sighed.  Harry’s words had no bite to them, but they’d had this discussion enough times in the last week that Draco knew he genuinely felt all this fuss was unnecessary. 

   “They’re my parents,” he said in resignation.  “They have certain expectations.  If we’re going to have dinner with them, you need to look a certain way or they won’t get past it to see the real you.”

   Harry swayed them back and forth a bit, peering over his glasses into Draco’s eyes.  “They know who I am,” he said firmly but kindly.  “They hired me.  I’ve been working here for almost three months.”

   “And they just found out you’ve been shagging their son for the last two,” Draco pointed out.  “You can’t deny that changes things.”

   “Does it?” Harry asked, and Draco was upset to detect a hint of apprehension in the question. 

   He shook his head.  “Not between us,” he said without missing a beat.  “But for them, I want them to be okay with this.”  He grinned, trying to lighten the mood.  “Not that it hasn’t been fun, all this sneaking around, but it might be nice to actually go to _sleep_ after you’ve had your wicked way with me, you know, in a normal bed, like normal people.”

   As part of his job contract, Harry got a place in the staff quarters in the building a hundred feet or so away from the Manor.  But rather than it making it easier for them, having their own rooms within easy access, it had actually made it tortuously difficult, because the risk of getting caught in such busy communal areas was so high.  So privacy had been a bit of an issue in the past several weeks as they had been forced to come up with more and more inventive rendezvous points so as to avoid getting caught by family and staff alike. 

   Last week Draco had snapped under the pressure and told his mother, in so many words, that he was seeing someone.  Someone from the staff.  Someone who was also male. 

   He’d started with his mother for obvious reasons, as she was by far the more sympathetic and open-minded of his parents.  Even so, she had had a shocking lack of surprise in her reaction.  Apparently, she had suspected Draco’s sexual orientation for a while, and it hadn’t taken a genius to guess from his recent behaviour that he was seeing someone.  Draco hadn’t planned on divulging Harry’s identity without consulting him first, but she had been so accepting Draco had just blurted it out, and that’s when plans for dinner had been made. 

   His mum said she’d hired him as an employee, so she would have to reserve judgement on him as her son’s boyfriend until she’d had a little more intimate contact with the young man.  Draco hadn’t been there when she’d informed his father.  In fact, he’d not seen him all week.  Draco really wished he could have tested the waters before dinner later, but his father seemed determined to avoid him until then, so that left Draco feeling somewhat out of control.

   He fiddled with Harry’s lapels; making his boyfriend look more presentable seemed like the safest way to go about introducing him formally to his father, and also giving him back a fraction of that much needed control.   “I just want this to go well,” he said quietly.

   “And what if it doesn’t?” Harry asked.  “What if they don’t approve of you dating the lowly hired help?”

   Draco swallowed and ran his fingertips along the back of Harry’s neck.  His contentment had vanished and he wanted it back, so he sighed determinedly.  “They don’t see you like that,” he insisted, hoping it was true.  “I certainly don’t.  Besides,” he added with a wicked glint.  “I’m sure they’d be far more horrified to hear the depraved things you’ve been doing to their only son, rather than your socio-economic class.”

   “Depraved things I’m assuming you’re planning on bringing up somewhere between the soup and salad courses?” Harry grinned back, and Draco felt a flutter of relief creep through his skin.   Harry could always make him laugh, he was always so sure of everything, he hated seeing any kind of doubt in his beautiful green eyes, least of all doubt that he wasn’t going to be good enough for Draco’s parents. 

   “Of course,” he purred, running his hands up and down Harry’s spine.  “I’m sure they’ll want to know all about what’s been going on in their hay barn.”

   “And the stables,” Harry added, leaning in to nibble on Draco’s earlobe.  His eyes drifted closed and he bit his lip.

   “Don’t forget that time in the tractor shed,” he mumbled.

   “Hmm,” Harry agreed, and Draco could feel him smiling into his neck.  “I think I got photos of that one.”

   Draco laughed and Harry took the opportunity to tickle his ribs, eliciting a most unmanly squeal from Draco.  “Get off!” he cried.  But Harry knew how _impossibly_ ticklish he was, and decided now was a good time to exploit that.

   “I think Sir needs to be reminded of who’s in charge here,” he growled playfully, using his fond nickname for Draco from their very first time together.  He knew that it turned Draco on insatiably as well, the bastard. 

   Draco tried to wiggle free, but even though he was slightly taller, Harry was far stronger and heavier, and they began to tussle as they pushed back and forth, hooting and crying out as their game became increasingly physical.

   Eventually, Draco twisted lose and skipped away, behind the bench into the next line of trees, and Harry took chase.  Draco forgot he was wearing his best clothes as he darted in between the apple trees, his adrenaline spiking as Harry dove for him.  The ground was slippery with fallen leaves though, slick with recent rain water that turned the ground to mud underneath, and Draco skidded, his arms pin wheeling as he almost lost his footing.

  That was, until Harry crashed into him, victorious, and they both definitely lost their footing.

   “Argh!” Draco cried out in horror as they slammed down into the mud, scrambling to sit up, but the damage was already done.  Harry didn’t seem to care less though, as he launched forward to seize Draco with grubby hands rolling them to the floor until Draco was pinned underneath him.  “My shirt!” he squawked.

   Harry gave him a feral smile.  “Yes,” he said, grinding his hips down onto Draco’s.  “It looks much better wet.”

   Draco could have been very mad, but he was too turned on to care.  He had spare clothes, they would just go back to the house and change in a minute.  Right now it seemed much more important to yank Harry down and crush their mouths together, to arch his back and press his body as close as possible to Harry’s, their cocks rubbing together through their slippery trousers in a way that had him hard in seconds. 

   Draco wasn’t going to stay prisoner for long though, so he rocked, catching Harry off guard to roll them to the side and switch over.  If Draco’s clothes were going to get ruined, Harry’s damn were as well.  But Harry didn’t seem to mind all that much, and it wasn’t until his hand came up to the side of Draco’s face with a splat that he realised why.  “Got you!” he crowed as mud dripped down Draco’s jaw and through his hair.  Draco yelped and tried to shake it off, but of course that only made it worse.

   “Git!” he hissed, scooping up a handful to smatter through Harry’s unruly black hair.  Unfortunately, this mostly just slicked it back and made it shiny, which was unreasonably hot, so Draco undermined his own attack by dropping down for a kiss, claiming Harry’s mouth as he ungulated his hips, pressing his beautiful man literally into the ground. 

   “Harry,” he uttered into his mouth. 

   Harry squeezed him back, his kisses brutal.  “I want you,” he managed between ragged breaths, and Draco dropped his eyelids, slipping into a heavenly sort of state. 

   He realised just a little too late that someone cleared their throat.  “Uh, Draco?” a hesitant voice broke through his lust haze.

   He snapped his eyes open and jerked in shock.  Harry did likewise, scrambling to their feet and flicking droplets of wet dirt in every direction as Draco realised, to his absolute horror, that both his parents were stood by the bench where he had just met Harry.  They looked utterly stunned, and Draco couldn’t say he blamed them.  “Mum!” he cried, swiping his hair out of his eyes and only really succeeding to spread the mud even further.  “Dad!  I thought, I mean, dinner’s not ‘til seven, I thought we had time, we were going to meet you, I, uh-”

   His voice died in his throat.  Narcissa Malfoy had obviously chosen her outfit extremely carefully for the occasion; her slim frame was clad in a pale blue shirt and cream slacks, trimmed with riding boots and a spotted cravat, her blonde hair twisted into an elegant knot.  She was apparently attempting to bridge the gap between their family’s elevated status and Harry’s working class background, dressing up for the part, and here Draco was, undermining all her conscious effort by tousling in the mud.

   His dad was even worse, looking completely out of his depth in one of his finest bespoke suits, shifting on his feet and wringing his hands together.  From the look on his face Draco really had no idea what he thought of his son’s new, unconventional sexual practices being flaunted in front of his nose; was he disgusted?  Disappointed?  Was he contemplating disinheritance if Draco was no longer in a position to produce a family heir? 

   That last thought made him balk – surely that wouldn’t be the case?  He desperately hoped not.  He loved his family, he was so proud of all their accomplishments, and he had his heart set on following in their footsteps into the business.  Surely this wouldn’t change all that, would it? 

   Oh this was definitely _not_ how Draco had envisaged this meeting going!  He dropped his hands to his sides miserably and swallowed.  His father’s face had not shifted away from his horrified expression, and his mum looked like she was trying to find something appropriate to say.

   How much did they care that Draco was gay?  How much did they care that, to all intents and purposes, he had chosen to hook up with the local stable boy?  How much had he shot himself in the foot by having them all first formally meet after covering himself and Harry head to toe in mud?

   He was blinking, too stunned to manage to summon any helpful words.  But that was when Harry’s hand snaked gently into his, the grit rubbing between their skin, and Draco looked down at their entwined fingers.  Okay.  This was a fuck up, but it was also only as bad as he let it be.  He raised his gaze to meet Harry’s anxious one behind his splattered glasses, and nodded once.  “Mum,” he said far calmer, then took another deep breath for good measure.  “Dad, I believe you know Harry.  Harry, these are my parents Narcissa and Lucius.”

   Harry stood up straight and removed his glasses altogether; better to be half blind than squinting from behind clogs of dirt.  Draco squeezed his hand for a silent burst of encouragement, willing him to speak.  “It’s a pleasure to formally meet you,” Harry said steadily.  “I must apologise profusely for the state we’re in, it was my fault.”

   “No,” Draco insisted quickly.  “It was mine, I fell and took Harry with me.”

   Narcissa rested her hand on her chest, and eased into a smile that was _almost_ relaxed again.  “No,” she said, shaking her head.  “It’s our fault, we were keen to begin the introduction and came to find you.  We should have known it would catch you unaware.”  She nodded at her husband, who managed to clear his throat and nod back.  “How about we give you an extra hour to get cleaned up, and see you in the dining hall for eight o’clock?”

   Draco felt a warm rush of appreciation towards his mother.  “That sounds like a good plan,” he said earnestly, and smiled unabashed at Harry.  He was rewarded by a little chuckle back, and if his mother didn’t also give a hint of a titter as she firmly escorted Lucius away. 

   “Oh fuck,” Harry cried as soon as they were far enough away.  He spun Draco to face him, hands gripping his shoulders.  “Fuck, fuck, _fuck!_ Baby, I’m so sorry, that was so stupid, I was just so nervous and, I don’t know, it’s like I wasn’t sure about the suit so I bloody _sabotaged_ it, I never meant-”

   Draco was quite proud that he was able to calm him simply by slipping his hand behind his neck and pressing their foreheads together.  “My mum is fine,” he said with full authority.  “I’m not sure about my dad, but he basically does what my mum says, so I think we’re fine.”

   “Draco,” Harry said.  He always called him ‘baby’, or ‘hot stuff’, or ‘Sir’.  There was something indefinably erotic about hearing his own boyfriend use his given name. 

   “Harry,” Draco said, returning the favour.  “Stop fretting.”

   Harry swallowed, and, terrifyingly, looked almost tearful.  “I wanted to impress them,” he said thickly.

   Draco felt a flare of defensiveness surge through him.  “My mother tore herself away from an abusive family,” he snapped.  “My dad built this business up from nothing.  Do you think they’re going to be impressed with some smooth-talking, trust fund brat, or by someone who has passion, who works his arse off and isn’t afraid to stand up to his other half?”

   Draco realised his heart was hammering in his chest.  He hadn’t appreciated that was quite how he felt before, but he now the words were out his mouth, he knew them to be true.   He was fiercely proud of Harry, and wouldn’t rest until his family were too. 

   Harry rewarded him with a hint of a smile.  “I think I quite like it when you get bossy,” he said, and Draco felt his insides flutter.

   “Good,” he said, nudging him with his shoulder.  “You better get used to it.”

   “Yes Sir,” he replied, but it was far more affectionate than sexual.  Draco pulled him into a hug and rubbed his damp back, nuzzling his face into Harry’s neck as they swayed slightly in the orchard. 

   A breeze cut through the evening, and reminded Draco that summer was actually gone as they shivered in the encroaching twilight.  “Hey,” he said, breaking the comfortable silence.  “How about I finally get you up to my room?” he asked playfully.  “We can shower and get a change of clothes, then try that introduction again?”

   Harry nodded, so hand in hand they began walking back up to Malfoy Manor.  There was still a little tension hanging in the air though, and Draco tried to ease it away by rubbing the back of Harry’s knuckles with his thumb, but it didn’t quite work.  By the time they reached the staff entrance into the laundry room, he had made up his mind what to do.

   “Mrs Winkleton?” he called as they stepped tentatively into the bare-stone room filled with washing and drying machines.  Winkleton was their head house keeper, a wizened old woman who had been old for as long as Draco could remember, and always seemed to have the gin hiccups, but somehow still managed to perform her job admirably.  She was never far away from the thrum of the house’s inner belly, and sure enough she popped up within a moment of Draco’s calling.

   “My goodness!” she cried.  “Master Malfoy, what on earth have you boys been doing!” 

   He refrained from pointing out they weren’t boys, they were fully grown men, and instead smiled at her gratefully.  “Hey Winky,” he said, using his childhood name for her.  “We could do with a bit of help.”

   She tutted fondly and shooed them towards the nearest washing machine.  “Down to your undies,” she ordered.  “I’ve got a couple of dressing gowns that won’t mind a bit of muck on them, then we’ll get you upstairs where you can get yourselves decent for your mum and dad.”

   Harry looked like he wasn’t sure if she was serious, but Draco was already unbuttoning his shirt.  “She’s been giving me baths since I was born,” he whispered assuredly as the housekeeper flitted off to get them robes.  “Your boxers aren’t going to bother her.”

   Harry swallowed.  “Okay,” he breathed, trying to feign confidence, but Draco leaned over and kissed his check.

   “Your body is hot as fuck,” he said, causing Harry to flush a rare hint of pink.  “They deserve a peek, it’ll give them something to gossip about for weeks.”

   Harry bit his lip and nodded, and soon they were both down to their smalls, clad in the promised dressing gowns by Winkleton who, as Draco had guaranteed, didn’t give two hoots about their state of undress. 

   “Winky?” Draco asked once she’d got their clothes on a wash.  “Do you think you could show Harry to my room?”  He took his hand and squeezed it again.  “I’ll be up in a minute, I just…I just want to have a quick word with my mum, okay?”  Harry took a breath, and nodded.

   “Yeah, sure,” he said, and graced Draco with a soft press of his lips on his own.  “Take your time.”

   Draco shook his head though.  “I won’t be long.”

   Winkleton dutifully escorted Harry up the short flight of stairs to the kitchen, where Draco left them to go scour the house to find his mother, nerves suddenly back.  He had to just check what he and Harry would be walking back down into, he needed his mum to tell him it was going to be okay, and then he could assure Harry it was okay, and everything would be okay. 

   After a short search of the ground floor rooms he found her in her study, on her laptop with a notepad and a glass of red wine.  She was frowning at the screen determinedly, and Draco loitered at the threshold to the room for a moment, steeling his courage.  “Mum?” he said eventually.  

   She blinked and looked up, relief flitting across her face.  “Sweetheart,” he said, standing up to great him.  “I thought you were getting in the shower?  Your father’s on a call I think, but I can get him if you’d like?”

   Draco fidgeted as she held his shoulders and studied his mucky face, feeling all of about five years old again.  Despite all his brave words to Harry, he felt all his insecurities flooding back and alarmingly, his eyes threatened to prickle with tears.  “Mum I’m sorry,” he said dejectedly.  “I wanted it to be perfect, I wanted you to see Harry like I do but we were nervous and stupid and now you probably think he’s a bad influence or something, but he’s not I swear, I-”

   _“Draco,”_ his mother soothed, and pulled him into a hug despite his dirty state.  “Draco please calm down, no harm was done I assure you.”

   “But we were acting like idiots,” he pressed on.  “He’s not some grunt mum I swear, he’s so clever and-”

   “Draco,” Narcissa snapped and leaned back to look him in the eye.  “Do you think I am so elitist I would judge someone on a couple of minutes of interaction?”

   He swallowed.  “No,” he said, but he was so anxious he wasn’t sure if he really believed it.

   Her face softened again.  “Anyway,” she said, brushing back a strand of his fringe and crumbling the dirt that lingered off her fingers.  “If I _were_ to pass any judgements, I would say I saw two people very much in love, who were caught off guard, then behaved as respectfully as they could considering they were doused in fine Wiltshire soil.”

   Draco knew his eyes were wide.  Partly because he couldn’t believe his mum was being so forgiving, but partly…  “Love?”

   She smiled indulgently.  “I never said a word,” she told him knowingly, then patted his arm.  “Now, how about you go rescue Harry from wherever you’ve deposited him, and we’ll see you in a little while for prosecco and entrées in the parlour?”

   Draco swallowed down the lump in his throat, and after a long, deep, breath, finally began to relax once more.  “Okay,” he said shakily.  “Okay.”

   She tapped his nose with a slender finger.  “Please wash behind your ears,” she chided gently.  “I’ve not seen such a frightful sight in this house since Dobson accidently let that batch of baby goats loose.  I don’t believe the drawing room ever recovered.”

   Draco couldn’t help but laugh, and his mum ushered him along his way.

   Heart fluttering with a new lightness, he raced up to his room on the third floor and charged through the door.  The sound of water running told him that Harry was already in the shower, and, feeling bold, he crossed the room to enter his en suite.  “Hi,” he said tentatively.

   “Hi!” Harry called back, sticking his head around the side of the frosted glass partition to talk to Draco as he leaned against the door frame.  “Did you find your mum?”  The question was casual, but Draco caught the hint of worry still lingering there. 

   “Yes,” he beamed.  “And I was right, she didn’t mind at all, in fact I think she thought it was all quite funny.  I think…” he cleared his throat as he pulled up his courage.  “I think she likes you quite a lot.”

   Harry’s face melted into genuine relief as he held onto the shower door and smiled openly at Draco.  The unfair thing was though, if Harry had been rocking the wet mud look before, he had to be a God damn pro at the just-got-out-the-shower aesthetic.  He was all glistening and slick and shining, Draco felt his insides clench uncontrollably. 

   “Yeah,” he said, suddenly awkward, which was ridiculous, because he’d seen Harry naked a dozen or two times already.  “So, that’s good, anyway, I’ll let you finish up.”

   Harry looked back, like he’d forgotten where he was.  “Why don’t you join me,” he asked, turning back, his green eyes practically emerald with eager happiness. 

   Draco blinked.  He’d swung from relief to nervousness so many times this evening he was starting to get whiplash.  “In the shower?” he clarified rather dumbly. 

   “Yeah,” Harry said, curling a wet hand out in invitation.  “We’re always so mucky, I’d like to clean you up for once.”

   Draco’s nerves must have shown on his face, because Harry’s expression softened.  “Sorry,” he blurted, before Harry could say anything.  “I don’t know why I’m shy, it’s just-”

   “You’ve not done this before,” Harry finished for him sympathetically.  “You don’t have to, not if you don’t want to.”  He looked coy and bit his lip.  “But, I think it’ll be nice.  And, well, I’m only going to have to shag you on your bed anyway, and then we’ll just have to shower again before we can go back down to your parents.”

   Draco barked out a laugh that was maybe a bit too loud, but Harry’s assurances were smoothing out his apprehension.  “Yes, that is true,” he agreed, and ran a hand through his sticky hair.  What was the worst that could happen?  Harry would look after him, he always did.  In fact, it never failed to amaze Draco that Harry, with all his blatant experience, obviously took great care and pleasure in guiding Draco through his clumsy, virginal ways. 

   Feeling heat rise up to his checks, Draco pushed his body off of the wall and closed the door to his bedroom, just in case anyone were to walk in.  He then took a deep breath and tried to steady his shaking fingers as he fumbled with the dressing gown and let it drop to the floor. 

   He had his thumbs in the band of his boxers when Harry spoke.  “Hey,” he said gently.  “Leave them on for now.”

   Draco raised his eyebrows questioningly, but Harry reached out again with his hand, asking Draco to take it, so he did.  He let himself be guided into the bath behind the frosted partition, where Harry was standing naked in all his glory.  Draco found it easier to keep his gaze firmly on his boyfriend’s eyes though as they turned so Draco was fully under the shower stream.

   “Urgh,” he said involuntarily as the hot water hit him.  He had one of those fabulous rainfall shower heads, so the large square panel above them easily drenched he and Harry in a powerful deluge.  Fuck he missed this when he was away at uni.  He was also certain pretty quickly he wouldn’t be able to have a shower again without also missing Harry being in it, as his partner’s hands began to gently trace over his body.

   He was stood with his back pressed up against Harry’s chest, and he leaned back as he slowly started massaging shower gel over his cold, gritty body, kisses lacing down his neck.  “Is this okay?” Harry murmured over the noise of the falling water. 

   Draco smiled, and turned his head more into Harry.  “Lovely,” he said.  This wasn’t so bad.  He’d worried he’d have felt really exposed, but as Harry found the wash poof and began to rub the suds further down his arms he felt safe and content.  He was also getting pretty aroused, and his wet boxers were weighing down his increasingly awake cock. 

   He pulled away suddenly and yanked his underwear down, giving the garment a quick squeeze before chucking it into the sink outside the shower.  He then turned back into Harry’s waiting arms, this time facing him and just a little outside the water stream so he could keep his eyes open.  “You were right,” he grinned, running his fingers up and down his well defined biceps.  “This is pretty nice.”

   Harry sighed dramatically.  “How could Sir ever doubt?” he teased, leaning back to grab the shampoo from the side of the bath.  “Hand,” he instructed, and Draco held his palm open so he could squirt a dollop of product into it.  Childishly, it made Draco think of cum, and with their half hard cocks brushing against each other, he had to bite his lip to try and suppress his grin.

   “What?” Harry asked playfully as they began to wash out the mud from their hair.  Draco suspected Harry had already done this himself, and was just joining in for Draco’s benefit, but he didn’t mind. 

   “Nothing,” said Draco devilishly, rinsing out the suds.  The water was thankfully running more or less clearly now, and he was glad to be rid of the mud after all the drama it had caused. 

   Harry cocked an eyebrow as he plucked up the conditioner, this time plopping a deposit right on Draco’s head and rubbing it through his hair himself.  “Really?” he said, taking the remaining suds to run through his own hair.  “Sir’s not got anything…depraved on his mind?”

   Draco didn’t trust himself to speak.  He just shook his head, making sure all the soap was washed out, and came in closer to his gloriously naked man.  “Not really,” he said, gracing his fingertips along Harry’s shaft.

   “How disappointing,” Harry growled, mimicking him by crowding closer and taking Draco’s now very firm erection in hand.  “I had my heart set on a little old-fashion depravity.”

   Draco gasped and let his eyes flutter closed as Harry’s hand clamped down, beginning to rub him affectionately.  Draco had to concentrate not to let go of his own hardening responsibility, but it was a bit difficult.  Harry was taking charge, unravelling Draco already, to the point where he batted Draco’s hand away so he could cup his balls with his free fingers, massaging them tenderly. 

   Then the kisses came, breathless under the steady fall of water.  Draco wasn’t sure what to do with his hands, so he took hold of Harry’s elbows, partly to keep them from flapping, and partly to keep himself standing.  “You feel so good,” Harry muttered into his mouth.

   “So good,” he agreed.  But he didn’t want to just stand there placid for Harry.  The small part of his brain that was still lucid reminded him that Harry had been worried today, and Harry never got worried.  Draco wanted to assure him that he was as valued as Harry always made him feel.  “C’mere,” he instructed hazily, dropping his hand again to find Harry’s dick with renewed determination.  “Want you too.”

   Harry hummed and moved his hands so they were pressed up together, and allowed Draco slide his grip up and down them both.  “Hmm,” he said appreciatively, taking a firm hold of Draco’s arse checks instead.  “Sir is being awfully grabby today,” he observed.

   Draco kissed him again with fervour, feeling himself start to peek.  “That’s because you’re _mine,”_ he snarled.  “And now I’ve got you I’m not-” he stuttered, his muscles clenching in pleasure.  “-not letting you go.”

   Harry’s eyes lost their humour, and he looked at Draco with a deep sense of lust as they moved together.  He ran his fingers in between Draco’s cheeks, touching the sensitive spot he’d only played with once or twice before.  “Make me come,” he breathed, his pupils blown with want, and Draco let go of his own cock to favour Harry’s.  His other hand held Harry at the small of his back, and he watched on hungrily as Harry’s eyelids became too heavy and dropped shut, watched as he increased his pace and Harry began to spurt cum onto his cleanly washed belly.

   It _was_ just like the shampoo, Draco thought with satisfaction as Harry slumped into a hug against him.  “So good,” he mumbled into his shoulder. 

   “I could tell,” Draco said wickedly, very pleased with himself.  He reckoned it was probably the first time he had got Harry off alone, and before him too.  He was always taking care of him, it was nice for Draco to repay the favour for once.

   It took probably less than thirty seconds for Harry’s possessive instincts to kick back in and wake him up, and then Draco’s reign of control was over.  “Turn around,” he urged, and Draco’s did as he was bid, finding himself pressed gently up against the cool tile of the shower wall, a small relief to his body so hot from the scalding water and Harry’s skilled affections.  Especially as Harry was only just getting going apparently. 

   Over Draco’s shoulder he could see him squirt more creamy shower gel onto his fingers.  One hand snaked around Draco’s body to hug him close, whilst his other one pushed between their bodies, his slippery fingers finding Draco’s hole again. 

   He cried out as Harry started to massage around his entrance.  When they’d tried this before, it had felt good, but lubricated and clean under the hot water, Draco was sure he was going to collapse under his own pleasure.

   “Is this okay?” Harry asked concerned, but he needn’t have worried.  Draco nodded and curled his hands into fists, not having anything to grip onto other that the slippery shower wall.

   “Yes,” he grunted, pushing against Harry’s touch.

   Harry kissed his neck and shoulders, giving him a moment to get used to the idea.  “Does Sir want more?” Draco’s breaths were ragged, and he was just able to nod in response.  This was a whole new sensation, and it was incredible.

   Slowly, Harry pressed his middle finger against his hole, easing himself tenderly inwards, and Draco shuddered.  It was almost like it burned, but with the shower gel it was immediately soothed and Draco let himself breathe in and out, focusing on relaxing.

   “Good,” Harry urged him on.  “That’s good baby, let me in, just like that.”

   Harry’s words threatened to tip him over the edge.  But instead Draco grabbed the free hand that was resting on his stomach and entwined their fingers, squeezing them together.  That now meant he could sort of communicate with Harry without trying to speak.  He gave him another squeeze, urging him on.  _Don’t stop,_ he tried to tell him.

   Harry was listening just fine though, and as he pulled slowly out, he gradually added a second finger.  This was enough for Draco, who buckled slightly in his grasp.  “Is that okay?” Harry checked, waiting for the nod and squeeze before proceeding. 

   He moved in and out, never fully retracting, stretching Draco out to get him used to the sensation.  Soon, he wasn’t forcing himself to relax into Harry’s probing any more, soon he was pushing back against his hand, eager for more friction.  “How’s that?” Harry asked, and he must have moved his fingers or something, because suddenly he was hitting a spot so sweet, light exploded in front of Draco’s eyelids and he choked out a sob. 

   “Yes,” he gasped, clinging onto Harry’s free hand and the tiled wall for dear life.  “Oh, fuck, yes!”

   “My pleasure, Sir,” Harry purred, and began hammering his fingers into him, slamming the tender spot relentlessly.

   Draco gnashed his teeth and tried to hold onto his orgasm, but it broke through him suddenly like glass shattering, and he clenched up tight around Harry’s fingers, stopping them as he came undone.

   “Fuck,” he breathed, eventually relaxing enough so they could separate.  Harry turned him around and gave them both a quick rinse with the poof again, washing away any evidence of their tryst. 

   Physical evidence anyway.  Draco’s body was practically vibrating from the fallout of what had just happened.  “That was incredible,” he muttered, grinning as he clumsily pawed at Harry’s arms and hips and torso.  Lazy kisses found their way onto his lips, and all in all he felt drunk on love.

   Love?  There was that word again.  Was he in love?

   “I’m glad you liked it,” Harry whispered, finally turning off the tap to leave them dripping in the quiet of the bathroom.  He slowly guided them to the other end of the bath, and fished up a fluffy, clean towel.  “Are you okay?”

    He began to affectionately dry down Draco’s shoulders and hair, and Draco blinked his way out of his reverie.  They were clean and content, and Draco knew once again that everything was going to be just fine.   “Brilliant,” he said, getting another towel for himself to run over Harry’s skin.  “How about you?”

   Harry smiled happily, and stopped drying long enough to place a soft kiss on Draco’s lips.  “Perfect,” he said.

   “Ready to make a second first impression?” Draco asked.

   This got him a proper grin.  “You bet,” he said, shaking his head like a wet dog.  “Let’s go show your parents how awesome your boyfriend is when he’s not covered in mud.”

   Draco pulled him into a hug.  “I don’t know,” he said.  “I quite like it when you’re filthy,” he said.  “Let’s try it again sometime?”

   “Of course, Sir,” Harry promised. 

 

 

End

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, please review! To discover more of my writing, visit www.helenjuliet.com


End file.
